


I'll Never Be Enough

by haloburns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, based loosely off Crazy Rich Asians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-23 15:58:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16622006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloburns/pseuds/haloburns
Summary: “Harry! Wait!” Draco called after his boyfriend, who was currently walking as fast as he could away from the Manor.“I knew your family wouldn’t like me! I prepared for that! I knew they would try to trip me up with social graces, so we practiced! But to insult my family to my face!” he shouted as he walked down the drive. Oh, he wanted to so badly turn and spit these words through his teeth and jab his finger into Draco’s chest. But he needed to get away now before he started blowing things up. Again.“They didn’t—“Harry spun on his heel and stalked back to stand in front of his… Draco. He jabbed his finger into his chest, spitting his next words through his teeth.“How dare you defend them. You know what they say is wrong! Blood politics is horrible and it killed many people, including my parents! So how fucking dare you sit by and let them say that, and then laugh it off like it was a bad joke.”“Harry, you don’t understand,” Draco pleaded, looking at Harry with what he hopes is the right expression of regret and pleading.“No, you don’t understand. Fuck you, Malfoy.” Harry spun again and continued on down the long drive. At the gates of the manor, Draco watched Harry Disapparate.





	1. meet the parents

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i was originally going to put this in the how does a moment last forever series, but narcissa has a different characterization here, so it's a stand alone! this shouldn't be too long (hopefully) because I have a NaNo novel I need to get back to (as of posting this, the nano novel never got finished OOPS)
> 
> enjoy!

“ _Harry James Potter, what the hell,_ ” Hermione said in one breath. Harry had Apparated to Ron and Hermione’s tiny flat in East London. Before Ron and Hermione knew fully the storm that was about to hit, Harry had already gotten his tie undone and had a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand.

“How lovely to see you, Harry,” Ron had said sarcastically as he saw his best mate taking shots straight from the bottle, sprawled out on his couch.

“I told him off,” Harry said, staring at the bottle. He wanted to get pissed and do something reckless, he really did, but a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Professor McGonagall told him he best save that for the last resort. Tantrums could be thrown any day of the week.

After Harry gave them a brief rundown of the night’s events, there was a stunned silence that lasts only long enough for Hermione to draw air in.

“I can’t believe his mother said that!” Hermione said to herself for the hundredth time. Harry shrugged, slumping further onto the couch.

“What did Malfoy do after that?” Ron asked, leaning forward to place his hand on Harry’s leg. Harry sighed and rolled his head to look at his best mate.

“After I stormed out dramatically and walked down their driveway, Draco tried to defend his mother, and then I yelled at him and then stormed off dramatically and Disapparated.”

“Always one for a good scene,” Hermione muttered. She turned away to keep Harry from seeing the smile on her face.

“Yeah, well, I felt like this scenario deserved a scene,” Harry snarked. When Hermione turned around, she had to bite her lip as Harry pouted.

“Tell me again what happened, Harry,” Hermione said. She leaned into Harry’s shoulder, trying her best to comfort him when she just wanted to laugh at his behaviour. They were twenty-two for Merlin’s sake.

* * *

Harry readjusted his suit again as they walked up to the steps. He’d met Narcissa and Lucius before, but he didn’t really think they’d like to remember the times they’d almost been responsible for his death. As if he could read his mind, Draco grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “It’ll be okay,” he reassured as he raised his hand to knock.

Almost immediately, the door opened and a house elf ushered them inside. They walked through a long entrance hall, Draco leading the way to the dining room. To Harry’s surprise, it wasn’t just Lucius and Narcissa. Lucius’ brother, his wife, and their two children, and Blaise and Pansy were there.

“Draco, lovely to see you,” Narcissa said as she stood to kiss her son’s cheeks. When she pulled back, she gave Harry a slight nod, but at this point, he’d take a hex. It would be the most she’d said to him ever. Draco introduced him to the family he didn’t know and then Harry awkwardly took his seat next to Draco.

A house elf appeared at Lucius’ elbow and set a large tray of cookie dough on the table. With a snap, cookie cutters appeared with various sprinkles and icings. Harry raised an eyebrow, but Draco started telling the story of how his grandmother teaches them all how to make cookies each Christmas as a way to teach them they weren’t above getting their hands dirty from time to time. Of course, that didn’t really stop everyone from being dressed to the nines. Like they couldn’t be bothered to dress down to make _Christmas cookies_.

Blaise started speaking in rapid French once everyone was settled. The conversation quickly picked up in a language Harry didn’t know. There were jokes (he could only tell because of the laughter). He smiled as he heard the joking tone he’d heard many, many times at the Weasleys.

“Do you speak French?” Nicholas, Lucius’ brother, asked Harry, effectively putting the conversation on hold.

“Uh, no. I only know English. I’m trying to learn Tamil, which--uh, my dad spoke. It’s really nice to see you guys like this, a big family.”

“We’re all very lucky to have each other,” Narcissa said, looking fondly at Draco. With the awkward pause, Harry looked around for something to continue the conversation with. His eyes finally drifted to Narcissa’s hand as her rings caught the light. They  _had_ to have cost more than his entire vault. And that was saying something.

“Mrs. Malfoy, those rings are gorgeous,” Harry said in his conversational tone, the one he reserved for boring meetings. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Lucius had it made for me when he proposed.” The smile she sent her husband was intimate and soft and they quickly squeezed hands before Narcissa turned back to Harry.

“It’s very romantic. How… How did you guys meet?” Harry asked awkwardly. This was not a topic he really wanted to discuss, but now he’d backed himself into a corner.

“They met at Hogwarts,” Draco said. He could have made it sound like a “duh” statement, but he didn't. He just spun the story. “Mum was hexing an ex-boyfriend’s room and Dad just happened to walk past. She roped him into standing guard while she finished charming his clothes to dye his skin purple ever-so-slowly.”

“That’s sweet,” Harry said without a trace of bitterness. It was the kind of story he expected his parents to have had, and it made his heart ache a little. Unfortunately, that was the end to any conversation. The conversation picked up in French again and Harry returned to forlornly making Christmas cookies with too many sprinkles.

When it seemed like no one would notice, Harry slipped from the dining room to find a bathroom. Unfortunately, he got a little lost on the staircase because _Merlin’s pants there were so many halls._ He turned around on the landing to find Narcissa standing a  few steps below him.

“Oh, hi. I think I’m a little lost,” Harry said, hiking his shoulder up to his ear in embarrassment. “This house is pretty big--”

“I’m glad I found you,” Narcissa said, cutting into whatever Harry was going to say. She stepped up onto the landing, moving so she was further from the stairs. “I’m afraid I’ve been unfair.”

“Oh, no, you really haven’t been unfair…” Harry said, floundering for something to say. _Merlin, why do his wits fail him now_.

“You asked about my rings. Lucius had them made when his mother wouldn’t give him the family rings. I wasn’t her first choice, my sister Andromeda was as the eldest child. She would have rather had Bellatrix before me. I wouldn’t make an adequate wife, she thought. Too delicate to bear children, too delicate to run a house. Of course, she had very good reason to believe that.”

Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but he wished he was back in the dining room of French speakers.

“I had no idea the work and sacrifice it would take to be married to Lucius, to raise Draco. There were many times I wondered if I would ever be enough for her. But having been through it all,” Narcissa said as she stepped forward, and to avoid falling to his death down the stairs, Harry took two steps down, avoiding the ice in Narcissa’s gaze. “I know this much: You? Will never be enough for my son.”

She gave him an ice cold, polite smile before walking around him down the stairs. “Draco might worry. You might want to head back.”

* * *

"That can’t be all of it!” Hermione cried, leaning forward and digging her finger into Harry’s ribcage. “Where did they insult your mother?!”

“Ow! Hermione, that  _hurt_ ,” Harry said in his typically sulky tone.

“If you don’t tell me what happened after, it’ll hurt more!”

“Alright, alright!” Harry held his hands up in surrender, taking a swig from the firewhiskey bottle in his hand before starting his story again.

* * *

Once the cookies had been finished and whisked away to be baked, the family and Harry retired to the sitting room for tea and already-baked cookies. Harry somehow ended up in a conversation with Nicholas, which was more than awkward.

“I haven’t seen you much at the social lunches, where have you been hiding?” he asks, obviously digging for information. He didn't even try to cover it up with any type of subtlety.

“I have a job that requires my full attention during the day. Draco understands, so he doesn’t force me to go with him. And, to be honest, he knows those kinds of things bore me to death. When I get bored, the mischievous Marauder happens to make an appearance.” Harry lifts one shoulder like its no big deal, ignoring the slightly dirty joke he’d made. (It’s true in both meanings, but he _really_ doesn’t need to know that.)

“And what is it that you do? All Draco will tell us is that you’re involved in sales. I assume you’re working within one of his family’s companies?”

“No, actually, I--”

“Oh, I heard that the Patils just re-established trade with their partners in India, you must be working with them.”

“No,” Harry said emphatically. “I work--”

“Didn't your father’s family have a company? Hair products or something like that. After everything settled, I guess it would make sense to get back into the family business--”

“I work in a muggle bookstore!” Harry said a little too loudly. Nicholas blinked owlishly at Harry, who swallowed awkwardly. He refused to look at Draco, although he knew he was wearing that exasperated  _not_ _again, Potter_ look on his face. “I work in a muggle bookstore in downtown London. I don’t need to work for a living, but I like it. It’s cozy and calm, and after the war, that was nice.”

“It’s too bad you didn't take on your family’s company,” Nicholas said, quickly recovering. “If your father hadn’t married dirty, you just might have.”

Anger bubbled in Harry’s chest, much like it did when Aunt Marge had decided she could speak ill of Harry’s parents, who had sacrificed everything for him, for the chance that he might live. Unfortunately, he cannot inflate Draco’s relatives (he’d promised him), but he also couldn’t stand to listen to their talk.

“Oh, she never deserved him anyway!” Juliet, Nicholas’ wife, said with a laugh. “There were talks of him marrying a distant Brown cousin, but he met that mudblood and decided to throw all the traditions out the window. A good, pureblood boy married to that foul-mouthed mudblood _Evans._  What kind of common name is that anyway?” She looked at Harry sympathetically. “You’re lucky you inherited to your father’s name. No one would think the Potter heir would be a _halfblood_.”

“If you’ll excuse me.” Harry’s words as sharp and terse as he rises from his chair. His steps are long and quick, and before long, he reaches the front door. All semblance of manners flew out the door with him and his last fuck, and he let the heavy oak door _slam_! behind him.

“Harry! Wait!” Draco called after his boyfriend who was currently walking as fast as he could away from the Manor. Did they think Harry was suddenly one of them because he and Draco were a thing? Did they just so happen to forget Harry defeated Voldemort at a very high personal cost? Did they forget Harry stood in that exact Manor three years ago, listening to his friend be tortured because she was muggleborn? He shook his head, trying to ignore the _anger_ circling his head.

“I knew your family wouldn’t like me! I prepared for that! I knew they would try to trip me up with social graces, so we practiced! But to insult my _family_ to my face! Saying how my mother never deserved my father, how a good pureblood like him shouldn’t have married a dirty girl like her!” he shouted as he walked down the drive. Oh, he wanted to so badly turn and spit these words through his teeth and jab his finger into Draco’s chest. But he needed to get away  _now_ before he started blowing things up. Again.

“They didn’t—” Draco was torn. He was always torn. He  _never_ chose a side, _never_ chose Harry. The anger bubbled into a full-on boil and he spun on his heel and stalked back to stand in front of his… Draco. He jabbed his finger into his chest, spitting his next words through his teeth.

“How _dare_ you defend them. You know what they say is wrong! Blood politics killed people, including my parents! So how fucking dare you sit by and let them say that, and then _ignore it like it was just a bad joke_.”

“Harry, you don’t understand,” Draco pleaded, looking at Harry with what he hopes is the right expression of regret and pleading.

What was there to understand? Obviously, this, whatever _this_ between them was, wasn’t going to work. Malfoy would never change. And that  _hurt_ because Harry wasted two years of his life thinking he could.

Harry didn't attempt to mask his pain when he said, “No, _you d_ on’t understand. _Fuck you, Malfoy._ ” Harry spun on his heel again and continued on down the long drive. At the gates of the Manor, Draco watched Harry Disapparate.

* * *

“Oh, mate, I’m sorry,” Ron said, pulling Harry into a sideways hug on the couch. Hermione leaned into his other side, rubbing his arm.

“I want to be with him,” he said, that whine still in his voice. The more he drank, the more pronounced it became. “But if he’s going to be an _utter_ wanker then it can’t happen.”

“Well, you did storm off pretty spectacularly,” Hermione said, not looking up to gauge Harry’s reaction. He huffed but didn't shut her down. “Maybe he was going to defend you, but you stormed off before he got the chance.”

“These families are also fraught with social traps like you said, so maybe it wasn’t the time or place to cut them down,” Ron added. “He should still apologize though. His family was horrid to you. Blood status aside, that was a shitty thing for them to do, and he should have come to your aide, family be damned.”

Harry didn't say anything. Draco had always been torn between family and what’s right because, for him, they contradicted each other. But if he truly cared about Harry, wouldn’t he have said something? He wouldn’t take him to meet the Malfoys officially if he didn't care, but how deep did his feelings run? Were they going to get married?

Did he want that?

Ron slowly stood, laying Harry down slowly to lay on the couch. He had started to drift to sleep, murmuring questions that Ron didn't have the ability to answer, and it was best to let him sleep this off. If he still wanted to, he could wreak havoc in the morning.

“They’ll work it out,” Hermione whispered as she stood, kissing Harry’s forehead.

“If they don’t and we end up with a sulky Harry again, and we have to repeat fifth year, I will personally make Malfoy's a living hell.” Ron leaned down to kiss Harry’s forehead too. Once his best mate was tucked in, firewhiskey safely stored on the floor, Ron and Hermione snuck off to bed. Harry was too deeply asleep to hear them laughing at their friend’s flair for the dramatic.


	2. art speaks for itself

Harry and Draco didn't talk for almost two weeks. Harry stayed at Ron and Hermione’s flat, summoning his clothes as he needed them. Draco sent him an owl every day, but Harry never read them. He couldn’t just apologize by owl post. This wasn’t a small misstep or slight; it would take more than a three-page apology to make up for it.

Ron and Hermione loved Harry, had been through so much with him, but there was only so much a person could take. He ate cereal forlornly. He sighed all the time. He rarely changed out of his pajamas. Harry was currently curled up on the couch, staring forlornly at the TV as it cycled through Saturday morning cartoons when Ron tugged Hermione into their tiny yellow kitchen.

“Hermione, _he has to go_ ,” Ron hissed. They fervently looked to the doorway. If they stayed gone for too long, however, Harry would come look for them so he could mope around other people and complain.

“We can’t just kick him out!” But oh Merlin, she wanted to. They should feel sad for Harry, but… he was prone to theatrics when he was upset, and he’s been like this always. It was funny at first, but now it’s just annoying. Ron and Hermione rarely got to spend  _any_ time alone, and Ron missed cuddling Hermione without Harry on his other side. Not that he didn't love his best friend, but this wasn’t the kind of relationship they’d agreed on.

“We can and we will!” Ron said, storming out of the kitchen. Hermione stayed behind, knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep her composure while Ron kindly told Harry he had to get the hell out.

“Harry.”

“Ron? What’s up?” Harry stood from the couch, obviously gleaning this was a serious conversation.

“You need to get out.”

“What?!” _Merlin_ , Hermione could hear the pout from the kitchen.

“I love you, mate, and Hermione does too, but Merlin’s saggy ball sack, Harry! You’ve moped around here for two weeks! Go work things out with your boyfriend. He can’t actually read every single thought you have. You have to tell him how and why you feel the way you do!” A long silent pause. Harry kicking his foot awkwardly, like a child.

“Oh _grow up Harry_!” Obviously, Harry had that kicked puppy look. Ron was usually useless against it, but he’d had enough.

“Oi!” Hermione bit her fist to keep from laughing out loud. Now Harry sounded more like himself.

“You are being childish and I would like to wander around my house naked,  _if you would be so kind_.”

“Ron, I’m not stopping you from going—”

“ _That is not the point, Harry James Potter, and you know it_ ,” Ron said in a scarily accurate Molly impression. “For the last time. Get out. Please.”

“Fine!” Harry said, _still pouting, Merlin how does he keep it up for so long_?

“I’ll see you Wednesday for tea with Mum,” Ron said after another long silent pause. Hermione heard him hug Harry. “Love you, mate!”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too. See you Wednesday,” Harry grumbled as he shuffled out the door. The latch clicked back into place and Hermione dissolved into giggles almost immediately.

“What’s so funny?” Ron asked when he entered the kitchen again. Hermione was clutching her stomach with one hand, leaning against the counter with the other. When she looked up at him, he could see tears in her eyes.

“ _Merlin’s saggy ball sack!_ ” his girlfriend wheezed.

* * *

Harry was quite the sight as he walked through Diagon Alley. He was wearing dark blue plaid, flannel pajama bottoms and a shirt saying _My Wand is Bigger Than Yours_ with a picture of the Elder Wand beneath it. (A present from Ron on his 18th birthday.) Murmurs followed him all the way into Muggle London, where he just blended into the rest of the lazy millennial population.

The flat was empty when he returned to the bookstore where he worked. Harry couldn’t figure out if he was happy or sad that Draco wasn’t there. He wandered into the kitchen to stare into the fridge, unsure if he was truly hungry. The color on the fridge made him do a double take. Their fridge was normally white, but this one was now covered in various colored post-its. Slowly, Harry walked towards the fridge to read the various notes. They were all in Draco’s hand.

Some were _I love you_ , _I miss you_ , _please don’t leave me_. Some were  _don’t forget to feed Apep_ , _the milk went off last week throw it out_ ,  _I know you’re mad at me but please come to the gala tonight_.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry said as he scrambled from the kitchen into the bathroom to hurry through a shower.

* * *

Harry readjusted his suit again as he made his way up to the giant museum. It was an old castle full of old art Harry could only vaguely appreciate, but this was the annual Malfoy charity gala and he had promised to go. Fight or not, this was important to Draco, so he would go.

Didn't mean he had to like it.

A slight glamor charm that Draco had taught him concealed his scar, made his eyes a shade darker and his hair a shade lighter. He really didn't want Draco to know he was here just yet. There were still things he wanted to be mad about and to have a row about, but this _definitely_ wasn’t the place.

He may be an insensitive ass sometimes, but it wasn’t _that_ insensitive.

There were hor d'oeuvres and alcohol that wove their way through the crowd with a charm and Harry _gladly_ took part. He’d forgotten to eat in his rush to leave the flat in time, but he had remembered to feed Apep before he left.

Harry wandered through the gallery, snacking on anything that came his way and slowly sipping butterbeer. The gallery was impressive, for sure. He stopped to converse with the paintings occasionally, curious about their life in this castle, one without children. They told a few interesting stories, but in all honesty, they told him they were a little bored.

Harry bade them a good night and continued meandering. The art was interesting, but overall, the night was a drag. He missed Draco being with him at these things. They could make snide jokes together and occasionally sneak off to make out in some closet. Merlin, he missed Draco.

Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco stepped onto a platform at the center of the castle where the majority of the attendees were gathered. They quietly garnered everyone’s attention, and Harry wandered in from the adjacent room. He leaned against the door frame, getting ready to zone out of one of Narcissa’s boring speeches.

Once everyone has quieted down a little, Narcissa cast a Sonorous charm, giving a smile that sparkled like diamonds.

“Welcome, everyone, to the 318th annual Malfoy charity gala!” she called over everyone’s head. “We’re so glad to see everyone here, especially in the wake of this past year. I won’t hold your attention any longer, though. This year, my son will be introducing the new exhibit he’s been hiding from everyone!”

There was a smattering of polite applause, with a little murmuring. Draco had never presented at a family gala, let alone curated an exhibit. Harry watched intently as Draco stepped forward, casting the Sonorous charm on himself. Harry bit back a groan as his eyes roved over his boyfriend. He looked incredible in his dark blue suit filled with constellations that shimmered under the candlelight.

“Thank you all for coming. It’s an honor to introduce this year’s exhibit.” He gave a gracious, practiced smile to the crowd. Harry rolled his eyes, seeing right through his facade. “The past few years have tested us all. There was little time for such things as art and galas. Loyalties were tested. Families torn asunder. Duties were determined and acted upon, at times with disastrous results,” Draco started in his polite voice, the one Harry knew he used when he was up to something but didn't want anyone to know what was going on.

“While I was at Hogwarts, it became clear to me that there are always choices to be made. Easy ones, like finishing an assignment, no matter how hard it seems at the time. Harder ones, like letting a madman live in my house for almost two years. Or the hardest ones, like learning where loyalties lied. I was told that our house was to be our family. Our loyalty was to the house, and it was our duty to see it prosper. That was preyed upon and corrupted. We were taught because someone was a member of that house, they could do no wrong.”

 _And this has what to do with the exhibit?_ Harry wondered, looking around at everyone who seemed drawn in by Draco’s natural charm. Frowning, Harry crossed his arms. (Okay, maybe the frown was more of a pout, but this random stranger would have no reason to pout in an art exhibit.) Draco did have a tendency to go on and on, but he always had a point to get to. Apparently, he wanted everyone to go on this ride with him.

“Many of us maintained that delicate balance between duty to our house and loyalty to our own beliefs. But when we were tested, we chose the wrong side. Eventually, I learned that loyalty could be given to individuals, not just a house. People who had no obligation to support me, to teach me, to care about me, but they did so anyway. Simply because it was right.” Draco’s eyes scanned the crowd as he spoke, and Harry  ducked his head to avoid making eye contact. It dawned on Harry then that Draco was speaking about him.

 _Oh… Oh, no_ , Harry thought. He knew exactly where this was going.

“Recently, things have been said I thought I could ignore by maintaining my old balance of turning the other cheek when there was something I disagreed with. I can turn my cheek when people speak against me. I’ve done it my whole life.” He paused, obviously waiting to draw these people in. The crowd shuffled closer, as if they were struggling to hear his perfectly projected voice. “But I refuse to do so when someone speaks against someone I love, especially when the perpetrator claims to love me.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Harry was all-too-familiar with the whispers of these people. He spent most of his Hogwarts days being the center of any and all gossip, so he knew when he was being talked about.

There was a sharp pain in his chest and Harry swallowed hard. Draco did support his family, even though they were so obviously against him, his supposed boyfriend.

He didn't want to hear this.

Harry started to leave, weaving through the crowd as inconspicuous as he could be. He wanted to go out and get pissed and do something reckless.

“I love my family, and I always will, but I refuse to stand by as they make my boyfriend feel unwelcome.”

Harry stopped walking. Draco just called out his family. In front of a bunch of well to do purebloods. At the Malfoys’ most important event of the year. _Merlin’s saggy ball sack._

“Blood politics has no place at a family dinner, especially when they bring up outdated gossip in order to force him from their home. I refuse to stand by their belief in an outdated gatekeeping system, especially when it means to keep me from my boyfriend, to keep me from “marrying dirty,” whatever that means. I renounce my family’s passing of laws to keep others the old system has deemed to be less than out of our society.”

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Harry said softly. He really didn't plan on stopping.

“I’ve learned to overcome prejudice to see people’s true worth. What lies in their talents and skills. So tonight, I would like to introduce the newest exhibit. At Hogwarts, there was an obnoxious muggleborn Gryffindor who carried a camera around his neck. For six years, he took pictures of anything and everything. Muggle and magic pictures were developed. When the war came, he documented everything he saw, both muggle and magic. Unfortunately, he died at the Battle of Hogwarts.”

An uncomfortable shuffling rippled through the crowds at the mention of the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry swallowed the lump forming in his throat at the memory of little Colin, who would _always_ be little Colin.

“But, with the help of his younger brother and a few other artists, we’ve compiled the best of his work to showcase here. If we, as a society, are to move forward and forget blood politics, then we have to start by facing the worst of us. Colin Creevey’s art is not for the faint of heart. There are more gruesome pictures.” As Draco spoke, a a witch came forward to hand Draco a pair of glasses. They looked oddly like Harry’s glasses.

“I’ve charmed these glasses to filter out the worst of the image, so those of you who fought will have the choice of what you face. As for the rest of you, you should face what was done.” His voice hardened, not-so-subtly telling these people he has no mercy for them.

“Tonight, we acknowledge the old while celebrating the new. All proceeds from tonight will be given to the R.J. Lupin Foundation for the Welfare of Werewolves. Please, enjoy the exhibit!” Draco said, raising his glass. Social convention required everyone to do the same, even though they weren’t sure what they were toasting to. Most of them wanted to be offended but they knew the Malfoys would cause them many more problems if they spoke against them, especially Draco.

As the crowd dispersed to talk in whispers about what just happened, Harry wandered to the edge of the room, reeling. He leaned against the wall, struggling to process what all Draco had just said.

Of course, he didn't have to wait long to figure it all out because Draco appeared next to him, two glasses of champagne in his hands.

“You came,” he said quietly. “I didn't think you would.”

“You asked me to,” Harry said, shock coloring his voice. “I haven’t missed one yet. I wasn’t going to let a row get in between that. Plus, I was excited to see your exhibit.”

Draco handed Harry one of the glasses as he moved to lean against the wall beside Harry.

“Nice glamour,” Draco said as he took a sip, hiding his smirk poorly.

“Oh, yeah, forgot about that,” Harry said. He waved his hand, as if swatting a fly, and it disappeared.

“Hiding from someone?”

“I… wasn’t sure if I was still mad at you.” Harry shrugged, looking away as he took a drink of his champagne.

Silence stretched between them awkwardly. Draco had _kind of_ apologized, but Harry was still not sure how he felt. Sure, it had been a big argument, but it still wasn’t their biggest ever. And he did look _really_ good…

“Harry, I really am sorry my family said what they did. It was out of line, and I never should have stood by while they talked to you like that.” Draco paused and Harry glanced over to see him struggle to figure out what to say next.

“I don’t know what the next step is,” Draco said, each word with space between them, enough space for him to carefully choose the next word. “Do I give up my status? Disown my family? Go back like everything is fine?” When Draco turned to face Harry, he saw uncertainty in his light eyes. Immediately, Harry knew what they should do.

“Just threaten to become Sirius.”

Draco’s eyes grew wide, and he whisper-yelled his shock.

“No, I mean it! In the end, Sirius had the entire Black fortune which he left to me, his half blood godson from a dirty marriage. But,” he said, “his family didn't love him like yours does. They won’t say _go_ when you threaten to leave. They’ll find a way for you to stay.”

“Will it work?” Draco asked in a small voice, fiddling with the ring on his finger. Harry ran his hand along Draco’s cheek, looking at him earnestly. Draco’s family may not be the greatest in the world, but Harry never doubted that they loved their son, not once.

“If it doesn’t, then I’ll say I was wrong and we’ll get sloshed.” The laugh Draco let out made Harry smile. He pulled him closer, smiling at the light in Draco’s eyes. A tray floated past and Harry placed both of their half-empty glasses on it.

Almost immediately after the glasses clinked onto the tray, Harry yanked Draco closer to him. Their lips crashed together in a messy and brash way Draco had come to love and crave. He threw his arms around Harry’s neck, revelling in the feeling of Harry’s hands clutching his hips. When Harry’s hands ran through his perfect hair, he couldn’t find it in himself to give a fuck.

Harry groaned, turning, so he could push Draco against the wall behind them.

“I missed you,” Harry murmured, tugging Draco’s shirt from his pants.

“It was only two weeks, love. I’ve been on business trips longer.” Draco gasped as Harry moved to kiss his neck. His hands reached under Draco’s shirt, pressing his hands flat against his chest.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t use the mirror. We were having a row… It would defeat the point of having a row if I’d called you.”

“Are we having a row now?” Draco ended his question in a high pitch moan as Harry bit him sharply. Harry pushed himself closer, slotting his leg in between Draco’s.

“Definitely not.” He rolled his hips against Draco to make him make that noise again. When he did, Harry leaned back in, kissing him roughly.

 _Merlin, he’d missed this._ Two weeks had been too long. In the last year, they had spent a large portion of it making out on the couch of whoever’s apartment they happened to be crashing in that day. Two weeks apart because of a row was awful, and he wanted to make sure it never happened again.

While Draco and Harry indulged in each other, the paintings across the hall were excitedly whispering. Draco’s speech was the most interesting thing to happen in almost a hundred years, and the current make out session was exciting to be sure. Most of the paintings had left the vicinity when Harry pulled Draco close.

Now, one of the paintings from earlier wandered over and politely cleared her throat.

“Excuse me, sirs,” she said.

“Bugger off,” Draco groaned, not looking up from where he was grinding against Harry. He kissed Harry, pulling him closer as the girl insisted on speaking yet again.

“There’s something you should--”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy!” Narcissa shouted, shocked. Draco stilled against Harry, who groaned in annoyance. His head dropped to Draco’s shoulder.

“I tried to warn you,” the painting said smugly. She turned and walked out of frame. Harry snorted. Draco muttered a curse.

“Yes, Mother?” Draco intoned. He didn't bother to move from where Harry had him pressed against the wall. Narcissa stared openly. She wasn’t used to this kind of behavior from Draco, and it had more than stunned her. But just as quickly as she’d slipped up, her face was back into its mask. Her back stiffened and she cleared her throat daintily.

“There are people looking to meet you.” Her voice was stiff and awkward, more so than it had been two weeks ago at the family dinner.

“Tell them to make an appointment, I’m busy,” he said, running a hand along Harry’s side while looking very pointedly at his mother.

“Draco, be reasonable,” she said in a tone most would say was pleading. But Blacks never beg.

“No. You don’t want me to be reasonable. You want me to do as you say, just to save a little face. Now. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a drink with my boyfriend. Have a lovely evening.”

He gently pushed Harry away so he could move. Draco shoved a hand through his hair to make it look vaguely presentable. His shirt was less of a problem, so he left it untucked. The gossip column needed something to write about on Monday anway.

Taking Harry’s hand, he stalked through crowds of people towards the entrance. A few people glanced there way, but for the most part, they were unnoticed. Before, the thought of leaving an event early would have made him sick. Tonight? Tonight, he would much rather drink the night away in some seedy pub with Harry.

“I love you,” Harry whispered, kissing the back of Draco’s hand as they stepped into the night air.

They hadn’t said those three words yet. It felt much too soon. With everything that had happened in the last year, it felt like too much. And yet…

“I love you too,” Draco whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep trying to finish this. but my friend, irene, keeps egging me on and multiplying ideas and what was supposed to be one and done is now three with possibly a little bit more
> 
> i have finals to prepare for ughghg

**Author's Note:**

> OOPS there's gonna be a second chapter. i don't control my own actions at this point. i just do what the character's want, and harry wants a dramatic make up scene


End file.
